Normal Lives
by MotanTwelve
Summary: An AU in which the Twelve Doctors and their companions are students in their final year of secondary school (high school). Various misadventures occur throughout the year, including a band forming, relationships and bullies from another class. The title comes from a Polly Wright line; "Look at us, with our normal lives."
1. The First Day

I shouldn't have to tell you this, but I don't own Doctor Who. Would that it were...

Chapter One: The First Day

In a galaxy, sometimes known as the Mutter Spiral, there was a planet called Earth. Well, that's what the inhabitants called it.

It was quiet, although those who lived there would say anything else. They would say it was buzzing with activity, each day was filled with activity, but the universe around them was so much noisier and so much more complex.

In another part of the universe, generally called Kasterborous, there was a planet called Gallifrey. Gallifrey really was quiet. It was much more complicated, but the inhabitants, who had mastery over Time itself, never did anything outside their day-to-day affairs.

Gallifrey was no more, nobody would go there again, but the only survivor of its destruction became a legend.

The Doctor was a hero to many. A fallen angel, admittedly, but on their side nonetheless. On the other hand, Lucifer was a fallen angel.

But, for all the stories told about him, he was a mortal man, and mortals are the sum of their memories. It's interesting to wonder what the Doctor would've been like if he had been human, for instance, and that is where our story begins.

* * *

In the heart of rural England was a large town, encased on all sides by rolling green hills, all of which had been ploughed. The harvest was over.

It was September, and school began.

In one particular school, St. John's, a sixth-form class taught by a Mr Newman is the focus of our story. The class was composed of twenty-four students, all of whom you will meet in turn. You may be familiar with them. Will Hartnell, Tom Baker, Chris Eccleston, Martha Jones, Peri Brown and Zoe Heriot, among others.

So, on the first day, the students of class 13N gathered in their classroom. There was some talking between the students, but they knew one-another fairly well.

After a while their teacher came in.

"Good morning, class," he called, smiling pleasantly. "I don't have to tell you that it's a new year. Try and make friends, take opportunities and the rest. Make the effort. And, for goodness' sake, when the time comes to leave, don't pull pranks like the last lot did."

A tall boy at the back with curly blonde hair laughed. "You wish," he called.

Mr Newman smiled. "I hope you enjoy it. Now, the register…"

The whole class answered positive, although a girl called McShane turned up a few minutes late.

The students were expecting an interesting year, certainly, but they never would've guessed exactly how interesting it was going to be.


	2. Old Friends, New People

No, I do not, however much I wish I did.

Chapter Two: Old Friends, New People

Will Hartnell was a student. He was a lot more than that, but his life up to this point had been consumed by work.

He was a semi-competent pianist, he was taking Maths, Business Studies and Economics for his A Levels, he rode his bike into school, he enjoyed swimming on the weekends and he was always being told he drank too much tea.

He wanted a cup now. Very little milk, one sugar. Nice and hot.

He was about average height for his year, and he had short, fair hair and pale blue eyes, set in a teardrop-shaped face. His uniform was more or less immaculate, and consisted of a dark blue blazer, white shirt, white, purple and gold tie, black trousers and black shoes.

It was the first day, and he'd met up with his friends. Of course, he was a likeable person, people said "hi" to him wherever he went, but he had a small group of good friends, which consisted of thee others; Patrick, Jon and Tom.

Patrick Troughton always asked to be called Pat, but people just ignored that. He was quite small, with short, messy black hair, with blue eyes that sparkled mischievously. He always looked scruffy, his tie and shoelaces undone, his clothes too big for him.

He was funny, but he liked to play pranks, and that got him into trouble. He was in charge of the mess-up day at the end of the year, when the whole year would deliberately mess about because it was their last day.

Jon Pertwee was very serious, a total contrast to Patrick, but they somehow managed to get on, despite bickering a lot. Jon was tall and thin, with dark blond hair, which curled a little, and inquisitive brown eyes.

His clothes were always perfect, he was always prepared for every eventuality, he was remarkably practical, always knowing exactly what was going on, where he had to be. Of the four, he rarely got involved.

Tom Baker was tall and broad, with curly brown hair, grey eyes and a toothy grin. He was very good natured, mostly acting like a bit of an idiot, but he had a formidable intellect and a sharp tongue. On many occasions he had bested his teachers in a battle of words. The rest of the time he was fairly quiet, but he occasionally spoke up, offering pearls of genuine wisdom.

Tom came in most mornings wearing a striped scarf, especially in cold weather, and he wore it most of the time he went outside.

Will walked down the corridor, trying to find his locker. He turned around for a moment, looking at his friends. Jon was deep in conversation with Tom, probably making a sarcastic comment about the boys from Mr Whitaker's class. Patrick was working in his notebook, either drawing or making plans for a prank.

Will smiled, caught in his own world for a moment, and he walked into someone, who promptly dropped their books, making a loud clattering sound. He snapped back to reality.

"I'm so sorry," he said, putting his bag down and picking up the books. As he did so he realised who it was.

Polly Wright was one of the new girls in his class. She was about his height, with long, ash-blonde hair and deep chestnut eyes…he shook himself out of that and gave her the books.

"You're Will, right? Will Hartnell?"

"…" he began, "yeah, I am, yeah. You're Polly, aren't you." She nodded. "Good to meet you."

"What do you have now?" she asked.

He unfolded his timetable, which he had printed himself the night before. "Maths," he replied, "you?"

"Maths," she answered. "I have no idea where that is."

"I'll take you," he offered, picking up his bag.

"What a gentleman!" she exclaimed, laughing a little.

The pair wandered off to their first lesson.


	3. Making Music

As much as I wish I did, I do not own it.

Chapter Three: Making Music 

The first day was over, gone in an instant. It was interesting how days at the beginning of the year seemed to flash by, but at the end of the year they dragged out endlessly.

Most students had gone home at the end of the day, but a few remained, some taking part in after-school clubs. Martha however was not.

Rose walked onto the corridor, intending to get some books from her locker, and noticed that Martha was hanging about near the classroom.

Rose Tyler was about average height for the year, with shoulder-length blonde hair and pale brown eyes. Rose was new to the school this year, and so didn't know her classmates very well. Rose was still in her school uniform; a dark blue skirt, a blazer of the same colour, black shoes and tights and a yellow blouse.

Martha Jones was just a little bit smaller than Rose, with smooth dark skin, inquisitive black eyes and long, shiny black hair. She, in contrast to Rose, had been at St. John's for most of her school career. Martha was a high-achiever in all her subjects, intending to become a Doctor. Martha had changed out of her uniform into skinny jeans, black shoes and a dark red top.

Being the new girl, Rose didn't know many of her classmates. She had managed to speak to a few of them over the first day, but she hadn't spoken to Martha yet. However, this would soon change.

"Hey," called Rose, as she reached her locker.

"Oh, hi," replied the other girl, "you're Rose, aren't you?"

"Yeah, and you're Martha," continued Rose.

"I am," said the head girl, grinning.

"So what are you doing still here?" asked Rose.

"I'm meeting one of the girls," began Martha, but then her friend arrived.

Amy Pond walked in, having changed out of her uniform into a rather short skirt, tights, a red shirt and a leather jacket.

"Are we going or what, Martha?" she called. Then she noticed Rose. "Oh, hello," she added. Rose nodded her greetings.

"I was just saying," continued Martha, "that some of the boys in our year are in a band, and they've let Amy and I drop in to see them practice."

"Oh," responded Rose, at a loss for words, "well…I hope you enjoy that." She put her bag over her shoulder.

"Hey," called Amy, "why don't you…come with us?"

"Yeah, I'm sure they won't mind," added Martha.

"Are you sure?" asked Rose.

"Yeah, unless you had plans," continued Martha.

Rose laughed. "I'd love to come. The only reason I'm here is because I failed my test and the bus doesn't come until half-past."

"Stay later and I'll give you a lift," offered Martha.

* * *

The three girls walked into a building Rose had never visited. It was set apart from the others, and consisted of a large stage and a fairly empty hall. This was the performance hall, where they did the school play, concerts, and other things of that nature.

Four of the boys from class 13N had set up on the stage. On the left was a grand piano, behind it sat David. At the back was a drum kit, manned by Paul. To the right was Chris and in the centre was Matt, standing behind a microphone.

David Tennant still wore his uniform, in a minimalist capacity. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, his blazer was underneath the piano and his tie was loosened. He was tall and thin, with ridiculously spiky brown hair, dark brown eyes and an angular face, lightly freckled.

Paul McGann was wearing a simple combination of dark blue jeans, a dark grey hoodie and a white t-shirt. He had short brown hair and pale blue eyes, and was apparently a centre of attention among the girls.

Chris Eccleston was average height, with short black hair and blue eyes, which almost looked indigo. He wore a black leather jacket, green t-shirt and jeans. He hefted a bass guitar over his shoulder, which was dark red and printed with the number 9.

In the middle stood Matt Smith. He was tall and lanky, with floppy black hair and green-brown eyes. He wore a light blue t-shirt, trainers and skinny jeans. He had a white acoustic guitar on a strap over his shoulder.

"Okay," called Matt, "we'll kick off with Silence Falls."

Matt sang the opening of the song, strumming along on his guitar. After a few bars, Chris and Paul joined in. David sat behind his piano until the chorus, at which point he hammered out an incredible melody.

The three girls were unable to move for its duration, unable to take their eyes off the four musicians on the stage.

David's hands danced across the keys, Paul smashed the drums during the chorus and lightly tapped them in the verses. Chris seemed to block out the sounds the others were making, his fingers moving up and down the strings of his bass. Matt was incredibly animated, his face conveying each word he sang.

Eventually, after seven songs they finished. The girls finally broke their silence, cheering and applauding. David took a bow, Matt grinned widely, Chris nodded appreciatively and Paul smiled, somewhat out of breath.

* * *

"I love their music!" exclaimed Martha, as the girls walked out of the building.

"And the musicians?" asked Amy, smiling wryly.

"Shut up," exclaimed Martha, "he's really hot, okay!"

"What is it with you and hair?" mused Amy.

"Oh, god, his hair!"

"What's this?" asked Rose.

"Martha's got a thing for the pianist…" Amy explained grinning.

"What about you, Amy?" asked Rose.

Amy smiled a little. "I don't know, not really. Rose?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

And the three wandered off, laughing together.

And thus, the first day was over.


	4. A Grand Day Out

I can only hope that, one day, my dreams will come true...

Chapter Four: A Grand Day Out

It was the first Friday of term, and Will Hartnell was packing away at the end of the day.

The first week had gone very well. He had done well in his lessons, performed some of the tasks a head boy was required to perform, been swimming and caught up with his friends.

As he slipped his maths books into his bag and closed his locker, he noticed someone come up behind him. He turned and she smiled.

"Fancy seeing you here," he remarked.

"Hey, Will," replied Polly Wright. "Listen, are you doing anything this weekend?"

"No especially," he admitted, "why?"

"Well, the girls and I were going to the cinema, and there's some comedy film thing, totally not a chick-flick, and we've asked the others along, Jon, Tom and Patrick, and they're going, so…do you want to come?"

"Yeah, I will, who are the girls?"

"There's Zoe, Jo and Lalla."

"Now I see why Jon agreed…" muttered Will, grinning. "what time?"

"About one-ish."

* * *

Will was waiting in the town centre at exactly one. He wore a blue-grey jacket, jeans and a pale yellow t-shirt.

After waiting for a few moments he was joined by Tom and Lalla.

Sarah Ward, known by all her friends as Lalla, wore black trousers and a white, polo-necked jumper. She had long blonde hair and impossibly blue eyes, set into a round face.

Walking beside her was Tom, wearing a pale blue shirt and a black jacket. The relationship between the two was something of the love-hate kind, and nobody was sure how they felt about one-another, but they had been inseparable for as long as anyone could remember.

After some chatter between the three, Patrick Troughton arrived in a multi-coloured t-shirt and jeans.

"Afternoon, all," he called, "where are the others?"

As if they had been summoned, Zoe, Polly and Jo appeared from around the corner.

Jo Grant was about average height, with deep blue eyes and strawberry-blonde hair. She wore a checked red and black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and jeans. Jo was known for being quite clever, but very easily confused. Still, she was a very sociable individual, and she waved to the group as she approached.

Zoe Heriot was petite, with delicately sculpted features, short brown hair and keen, pale eyes. She wore a black dress with white polka-dots, tights and boots. Zoe was a formidable intellect, a match for any of the other students. She treated Patrick like a younger brother, while it was obvious they cared deeply for one-another.

Polly wore a black shirt, a long red coat and black trousers.

The group, now missing only one member, began to chatter amongst themselves. Eventually, Lalla asked the question.

"Where's Jon?"

The group realised nobody knew where Jon was, so they decided to go to the cinema without him and trust that he would arrive there.

When they arrived they found Jon Pertwee standing in the entrance, wearing a maroon shirt and a jacket and trousers of the same blue.

"Where have you been?" he asked, "I've got the tickets."

* * *

After the film, the group poured out of the cinema and found their way to the park, still deciding where they should go for lunch.

Tom, Patrick, Lalla and Zoe sat beneath a tree. Jon and Jo sat on a bench nearby, deep in conversation about something.

Will was about to join them, when he noticed Polly. She stood apart from the group, a wistful expression on her face. He approached her.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked.

"I don't know," she sighed, "I just feel like an outsider. You guys…fit together, you know each-other, and I'm the new girl, it's like I'm not part of it."

"Don't worry," he replied, "I'll soon fix that."

He beckoned her to follow him and they joined the group.

In the years to come, Will Hartnell wouldn't remember a lot about that day. He didn't remember the name of the film, he didn't remember where they eventually had lunch, but he remembered Polly smiling as they ate, laughing as they sat around the table.

By the end of the day he had definitely fixed it.


	5. Friendly Faces

Every birthday and Christmas I wish for it, but I do not own Doctor Who.

Chapter Five: Friendly Faces

It was a Tuesday afternoon, just after lunch, and Peter Capaldi walked into the classroom, intending to grab his bags in time for the next lesson.

Waiting in the classroom was Colin Baker. Colin was tall and broad, with unkempt blond hair and dark blue eyes. He was towards the back of the classroom, his back to the wall and his legs across two desks.

"Hi," he said, acknowledging Capaldi's entrance.

"Afternoon," replied Peter, walking to the back to get his bag.

"You're Peter, aren't you?" asked Colin.

"People call me Pete."

"Ah well, Pete it is," conceded Colin, "you're new this year, aren't you."

"Yeah, I am," smiled Pete.

"Well, I'm Colin, Colin Baker." The tall boy stuck out his hand. Pete shook it.

Colin looked at the new boy. He was a little smaller than Colin, but definitely above average height, with dark brown hair, which curled around the extremities.

Both boys wore their uniform, but Pete's was complete, whereas Colin had his shirt un-tucked and his blazer off.

"What are you doing in here?" asked Capaldi, withdrawing his hand.

"Waiting for a friend," explained Colin, "two, actually. Have you met Peter Davison?"

"I'm not sure I recognise the name, what does he look like?"

"A little shorter than you, blonde, blue-eyes. The girls adore him."

"Oh, yes, I think I've seen him in the corridors. Is he a choirboy?"

Colin snorted. "I wouldn't put it past him. He's a cricketer, they've just played a match, they got back about five minutes ago, so we always meet here and he tells me how it went before lessons start."

"Who's the other one you're waiting for?"

"That would be me," called a voice from the other side of the room. A shorter boy walked in, dark haired and dark eyed, with a wry smile on his lips. "Sylvester McCoy, at your service."

"Nice to meet you," greeted Peter.

"This is Pete, he's new this year," explained Colin.

"I detect from your voice that you too are from Scotland," noted Sylvester, shaking Pete by the hand.

"Yes, Glasgow, and you?"

"Dunoon."

"I see."

"Well, this is very nice," said Colin, "all we need now is Peter."

The door opened, and all three boys turned to see who was coming in.

"Sorry, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" asked Peri Brown.

Peri was also a recent addition to the class, having moved across from America over the summer. She was petite, with short brown hair, tanned skin and dark eyes. She was very intelligent, if a little shy. Fortunately, the others had been very welcoming.

"No, not at all," replied Colin, "come in."

Peri entered, followed closely by two others.

Clara Oswald had been at St. John's from the very beginning, and was close friends with most of the students. She too was petite, with shoulder-length brown hair and light-brown eyes. She had delicately-sculpted features and a quizzical expression.

Tegan Jovanka was taller, with curly dark hair and dark brown eyes. She had been at St. John's for several years, and had a reputation for being a little stubborn and talkative, but generally pleasant company.

"What brings you here?" asked Sylvester.

"This is our classroom too," retorted Tegan.

"Yes, I suppose it is," conceded the boy, slightly intimidated.

"Actually, we're waiting for Ace, the lot of us are going to our next lesson together, and we're meeting up here," explained Clara.

"What a coincidence," replied Colin, "we're waiting for Peter to come back from a cricket match."

There was an awkward silence, as nobody was quite sure what to say next.

* * *

When Peter Davison returned from the cricket match, he entered the classroom to deposit his kit-bag. He found within a crowd of seven students, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Clara was talking to the new boy, Capaldi or something, Colin and Peri were sitting with Tegan, who had clearly just made a joke of some sort, and Sylvester seemed to be listening to a rather tough-looking girl, who liked to be called Ace.

"Am I interrupting something?" Peter asked.

"Ah, Peter, good of you to arrive," called Colin, "how did it go?"

"We won by a long shot," replied Peter, "what's going on?"

"We sort of met by chance, and it became a rather companionable occasion," explained Sylvester.

"Oh, so you can talk!" exclaimed Ace, and the room erupted in laughter.

"Come over here," called Tegan, beckoning Peter to join their group.

Peter sat by Tegan and listened to their conversation, something about an amusing event in one of the lessons he had missed.

Eventually the bell rang, lunch was over. The group dispersed, as different people had different lessons. Clara bade farewell to the group and left alone. Ace practically dragged Sylvester out, where they were going was uncertain.

Tegan and Peter walked off, slowly, taking time to converse with one-another and greet passers-by.

"What do we have next?" asked Pete.

"Physics," replied Peri, "with Mr. Grade." She made a noise of disgust.

"Not to worry," consoled Colin, "I shall beat him into submission with my charm."

And so the trio continued to their next lesson.

And, that day, several new friendships had been made, which is always a good thing.


	6. The Night Off

Look, if I owned Doctor Who I wouldn't be here.

Chapter Six: The Night Off

The second week went by without more significant events, but the third week was certainly interesting.

On the Tuesday of the third week, posters appeared around the school, on doors, walls and lockers. They advertised an event at The Five Alls, a pub in the nearby town.

The pub was well known for hosting musical events, and this particular event, scheduled for the Saturday of that week, featured three bands, listed in order of appearance.

By Wednesday, most students had expressed interest in attending, but the event was pay-on-the-door.

Rose was amongst those attending, along with her new friends, Martha and Amy. In fact, most students were going.

"I hear Jack is going to play," whispered Martha, grinning a little.

"Ooh," remarked Amy.

"Who?" asked Rose.

"The hot one in Miss Lambert's class," explained Amy.

Rose nodded. _Everyone_ knew _Jack_.

* * *

"Right then, shall we go over the set?" asked Matt, speaking to the other band members on a Friday evening practice.

David sighed. "I have the list in front of me on the piano, along with what little sheet music I need. Besides which, you announce what the next song will be."

Matt looked slightly put out by this, so Chris stepped in.

"We open with El Mañana, then we alternate covers and original songs. Silence Falls, Nowhere Man, Dark Days, Befriended, Age of Steel, Cassandra, Shadow Proclamation and we finish with Coffees for Closers," recited Chris.

"You thank the pub for having us and thank the audience for turning up," continued Paul, "we pack up our stuff, David flirts with girls, you get flirted at by girls, Chris leaves immediately and I go out with Grace."

"Okay, just checking," conceded Matt. "Shall we play the God Complex one more time, and we'll meet tomorrow at about four thirty."

* * *

Just before seven the next day, Amy, Martha and Rose bought tickets and entered the pub. There was already a small crowd, waiting for the first band. On the tickets were the names of the three bands and the times at which they would be performing.

Rogues Club, the first band, were playing from quarter to seven until half eight. The second band, The Oncoming Storm, started at quarter to nine, continuing until half past. Finally, at quarter to ten, The Doctors came in, with no discernible finishing time.

Martha went to the bar and got drinks for herself and the others.

Rose frowned, looking around, and caught sight of Matt, Chris and David, sitting at a table by themselves. She greeted them with a friendly wave, and David gestured for her to sit down.

"Where's Paul?" Rose asked, sitting beside Chris, who did not seem averse to the gesture.

"He's off with his girlfriend," remarked Matt, sighing.

"Who?" asked Rose, following his gaze.

Paul McGann stood on the other side of the room, drink in one hand, conversing with a young woman. She was almost his height, with auburn hair and blue eyes. She wore a dark red top and black skirt.

"Oh, I've met her," exclaimed Rose.

"We all have," replied Chris, "she's been here for a few years now. All the same, this is the first gig of the year, it wouldn't hurt for him to sit with us for a bit."

"Surely I'm better company than he is," quipped Rose, smiling at Chris, who shrugged, but couldn't hide a smile.

* * *

Rogues Club were alright. They were all students from one of the lower years at St. John's, and they played quite well, encouraging the audience to cheer, as they all seemed a bit nervous.

Their singer, also the guitarist, was a tall girl, with tan skin and long brown hair, wearing a blue dress and a white jacket. Their keyboard player was blue-eyed and dark-haired, wearing a black jacket and a white shirt. Their drummer was a dark-skinned boy with short black hair, wearing a blue t-shirt and jeans.

Then came The Oncoming Storm. There were five of them, all from Miss Lambert's sixth-form class.

Jack, the singer and rhythm guitarist, was the one that all the girls wanted, but very few had managed to get. Jack was tall and broad, with dark hair and storm-grey eyes. He wore a pale blue shirt and grey jacket.

The lead guitarist was called Gwen. She was about average height, with short dark hair and green-brown eyes. She had on a leather jacket and a red shirt.

The bass player, Owen, was thin and wiry, with spiky black hair and brown eyes. He had a reputation as being very sarcastic and disagreeable, but he somehow managed to have friends.

The pianist, Tosh, was petite, with long black hair and dark eyes. She had moved over from Japan about two years ago, and made firm friends with the others.

The drummer, Ianto, was the opposite of Owen. He was about average height, with a seemingly permanent smile. He had short black hair and blue eyes. There was apparently something between him and Jack.

Amy and Martha went outside to wait for The Doctors to begin, as there was a gap between the bands. Rose hung around, chatting with Grace once Paul had gone, but didn't get up to much else.

Then, after the suspense had built up enough, the Doctors arrived, to the sound of cheering fans.

Matt was in the middle, wearing a dark blue shirt and jeans. His white guitar was on a strap over his shoulder. David wore a blue jacket and a red shirt, and he sat at a black piano, which belonged to the pub. Chris wore his usual jacket, carried his red bass and still looked unimpressed. Paul had a plain white shirt and a sleeveless jacket.

They played a set of songs, four original and five covers. In the middle of Shadow Proclamation, their second-last song, David got up from the piano, picked up a blue electric guitar and performed a breathtaking solo.

At the end, Matt thanked the pub for hosting the event and the audience for arriving. Then he announced that The Doctors would soon be recording an album, and more news would be imparted at their next gig.

* * *

After the band packed up, Matt stepped down from the stage. He went over to the bar for a drink, his black hair damp with sweat, but a wide grin on his face. Amy met him there.

"Hey," she said.

"Oh, hey," he replied, drinking deeply, "did you enjoy the show?"

"Yeah, I loved it. Do you want to sit somewhere?" The pair went to a table.

"You're a really good singer," Amy said.

"Thank you," replied Matt, still breathing heavily.

"So, what's that about an album?"

He tapped his nose secretively.

"You don't say a lot," remarked Amy.

"Well I'm still recovering," admitted Matt, "I was very nervous and I…"

"Oh, shut up!" cried Amy, leaning over and kissing him.

* * *

David was barely down from the stage when Martha caught up with him.

"Oh, hello," he said, "enjoy the gig?"

"It was great," she said, gushing like a real fangirl, "you were great."

"Well, we try," conceded David, and the pair went to get a drink.

Paul had already disappeared with his girlfriend, so Chris decided to leave.

Just as he was at the door, a hand tapped him on the shoulder. It was Rose.

"Going somewhere?" she asked, and he realised that he wasn't.

All in all, it was a good gig.


	7. Picking Your Battles

Not even a TARDIS could get this chapter out faster. And, no, I do not own any of these characters.

Chapter 7: Picking Your Battles

It was the Tuesday after the gig, which everyone had seemingly enjoyed, and Will Hartnell was looking for somewhere to eat his lunch.

The lunch hall was fairly empty, and he saw a table by the window which had a nice view of the grassy lawn outside. He sat down with his tray and began to slowly his run-of-the-mill sandwich, reading Fahrenheit 451 as he did so. A few moments later, a shadow fell across the table.

"You're on our table," said an oddly familiar voice.

"Michael, isn't it?" asked Will, by way of greeting, not looking up from his book.

Mike Wisher was one of the boys from Mr Whitaker's class. He had very short, dark hair and a semi-permanent scowl, except for when he was leering at girls or laughing disdainfully at the misfortune of others.

He was rather intelligent, but also egocentric, cold and arrogant. He was remarkably unpleasant company, and he had loathed Will since day one.

He was almost always surrounded by a gang of about four thugs, all of whom looked identical; tall, broad, dark-haired and dark-eyed, with mouths full of broken teeth. They all acted the same as well; they were violent, moronic and tactless, and communicated solely by crude grunting noises.

Mike and his gang were infamous among the students for being untouchable. It seemed that, no matter what they did to their peers or to younger students, they were never in any great deal of trouble.

"Don't call me that," growled Mike, one of his eyes twitching.

"Oh yes, you have that nickname you like to use," mused Will. "Dav…dev…div…whatever it is, it's a silly thing anyway."

"Mind what you say to me, Will," warned Mike, "there's five of us and one of you."

"I'm surprised it's taken you this long to learn how to count," admitted Will, still not looking up from his book, "for all your intellect, you don't seem to understand that you don't own this table."

"Are you going to move or are we going to have to move you?" asked one of the goons.

"A complete sentence?" exclaimed Will, looking up from his book, suddenly. "I didn't realise you were capable of that."

The thug grunted angrily.

"Look," sighed Will, "if someone else turns up I'll go and sit with them, but you're not having this table, for one simple reason. I was here first. Even you should be able to understand that."

One of the other thugs slammed a fist down on the table. There were about half a dozen people in the food hall, and most of them were too far away to notice.

"Now, look here," said Will, sternly, putting down his book. He could remember the page number.

"No, you look." Mike drew himself up to his not inconsiderable height. The other four loomed in, threateningly.

"Don't think you can intimidate me like that, Mike," said Will, quietly, "don't ever think yourself capable of that."

Then, just as something was about to kick off, four boys came into the food hall. Colin Baker, Chris Eccleston and Tom Baker. Just behind them came John Hurt, one of the boys in Miss Lambert's class. He was about average height, with messy brown hair, cut short at the sides, and curiously dark eyes.

"What's going on here?" called Colin, striding across the hall.

"Well, if it isn't the loon, the goth and the imbecile!" exclaimed Mike. "Nice to see you all. How's the padded cell doing you, Tom?"

Tom Baker looked so offended that his eyes might pop out of his head, but Colin beat him to the next line.

"Oh, look who has the audacity to talk," spat Colin. "I didn't know the circus was in town, Mikey. You and your trained apes have been going on tour, I understand, vandalising the rest of the country."

One of the thugs grunted a curse at Colin, who took it on the chin, glaring at the boy so piercingly that the goon had to avert his gaze.

"Speaking of circuses, how is the minstrel show?" Mike continued, directing this to Chris.

"Far more successful than you'll ever be," Chris remarked, arching a single eyebrow. "There's not much money in having a little gang these days. You have so much ambition and no skill to back it up."

"You rely on the muscle of those delinquents who are dull enough to follow you around, mainly because you have a few brain cells to rub together," remarked Tom, "but that doesn't make you any better than them."

"Well, well," leered Mike, "a new boy. What's your name, boy?"

"John," replied the newcomer, "but I wouldn't waste time with remembering my name, you've got better things to do. Smoke behind the bike shed, graffiti your name on the bins, trip the year sevens up as they walk around, hang about in dark alleys because you think it makes you look cool."

Mike turned back to Will.

"Looks like you've got friends, Hartnell," he admitted, "but you've got to be alone sometime. We'll be in touch." He stalked off, two of his thugs following close behind.

"That's it," called Colin, "crawl back under the rocks, you slimy git."

One of the two remaining thugs swore violently at Chris and John, while the other shoved Will. When Chris and Tom stepped in, the ape-like boys crawled back to join the others.

"Are you alright?" asked Tom.

"I've been better," sighed Will.

"That…oaf," ranted Colin, "has been getting far too big for his boots. He's egotistical, elitist, inelegant, obnoxious and he has no dress sense."

"Someone should take him down a peg or two," muttered Chris.

"I know just the man…" mused Tom.

"Well I'll be off," said John, nodding slightly, "it was nice to meet you all."

"No, don't go, John," said Will, "stay here, grab some food, sit with us."

And so they did.


	8. Wouldn't Do Us Any Harm

If I owned Doctor Who I would have brought out that damn trailer.

Also, I know they're not old enough to drink, but I'm bending the rules.

Chapter Eight: Wouldn't Do Us Any Harm...

Will Hartnell woke up on Saturday, later than usual. He frowned and looked at his alarm clock, which was set early for school, but turned off for the weekend. The clock said it was just after twelve.

His parents were away for the weekend. His father was a banker, who had just returned from a long business trip, and he had compensated for this by giving Will some spending money and going for a weekend away with Will's mother.

Will's room had three plain white walls and one which was dark blue. Everything was clean and well-arranged. A radio stood on top of his chest of drawers, he had a wardrobe, several bookshelves and a desk with a computer on the top.

He pulled himself out of bed, pulled back the curtains, pulled on a t-shirt and went downstairs. He ate some toast and drank a cup of tea, showered, dressed and returned to his room to do some of work on his computer.

At about five o'clock he received a text, which read:

Be round in 5, going out late, bring money.  
~Tom

Will sighed, turned off his computer and got ready to go out.

-

Five minutes later, Will opened the door to find three of his friends.

Tom Baker was wearing his long scarf over a red shirt and jeans. Jon Pertwee was as casual as he ever was; smart jeans and a checked shirt. Patrick Troughton looked scruffy as ever, wearing torn jeans and a shirt that was far too big for him.

All three were smiling to some extent. Patrick looked a little mischievous, Jon had a wry smile and Tom had a wide and manic grin plastered across his face.

"Come on, Will," exclaimed Tom.

"Where are we going?" asked Will, stepping out through the door and locking up behind himself.

"We are going to have an excellent night on the town," explained Jon.

"And probably get absolutely smashed along the way," admitted Patrick.

Will arched one eyebrow. "Didn't any of you learn anything from the last time you did this?"

"Nope!" exclaimed Tom, grinning even more broadly.

Will sighed and the four went out.

* * *

At half-past-six, three of the quartet were sat at a table by the wall in a pub. Tom, meanwhile, was attempting to chat up a pair of girls standing by the bar, which wasn't working particularly well.

Jon and Will were taking everything very well, chatting and laughing, but certainly less intoxicated than their counterparts. Patrick was slipping off his chair, giggling violently.

"…so then he said," Jon was saying, "don't let word get out, right, or they'll all want another appendix!"

Patrick burst out laughing and fell onto the floor. Jon looked down at him and chuckled.

Tom abandoned the girls, ordered four more pints and carried them over.

Jon nodded politely, drank a bit and sighed.

"We should probably go," he said. Will agreed with him, Tom shrugged and it would be impossible to get any sense out of Patrick at this stage.

Will walked over to the bar and paid the tab. It was then he noticed who was drinking at the other end of the bar. He turned back to Jon, indicated the newcomer and shrugged.

Jon nodded, grinning.

Will walked over to Mike Wisher, who was drinking alone. Mike looked up, and then frowned.

"I got bored of waiting for you to get in touch," admitted Will, and he punched Mike so hard that the boy fell off his barstool.

* * *

"I can't believe you got us thrown out of a pub!" laughed Tom, as the four boys staggered down a street, Tom's long scarf passed along all their shoulders.

Patrick giggled, then began another chorus of "I saw three ships." Jon joined in, and the others followed.

Eventually they reached a lamp-post, and the boys split up - Jon and Patrick walked around one side, Tom and Will around the other. The scarf was snagged and pulled from their shoulders, but Tom somehow held onto it. It now dragged, feebly, behind him.

"You know something?" asked Patrick, leaning into Jon, "you're my best mate, you know that?"

"You're not so bad yourself," signed Jon, laughing.

And they were happy. Perhaps a little inebriated, but happy nonetheless.

* * *

Will Hartnell woke up on Sunday at four in the afternoon. He fell out of bed, made his way downstairs, and drank some tea, before getting himself something for the headache.

Thank goodness he'd done all his work the day before.

In the afternoon, as he was feeling better, and he called Jon.

"Ah, sobered up have we?" asked Jon Pertwee, his voice a little hoarse from the many choruses he and Patrick had belted out the previous evening.

"Just about," sighed Will, "how are the others?"

"Apparently Patrick got home alright, but he's got a number written on one arm, which worried him slightly. As for Tom…well…"

"Go on, tell me."

"He was tied to a lamp-post…"

"With his scarf?"

"Yep."

"Just like last time then."

"Exactly."


	9. The End of Term

A bit of song!fic here. I don't own the Beatles or Doctor Who. And yes, the title is a bad pun, unintentional originally.

Chapter Nine: The End of Term

It was nearly of the Winter Term. The week before the last day, the school held a dance. The sixth-formers were expected to dress up to a certain extent, but the evening gradually deteriorated into a vastly informal event.

Although they were going to play music at the dance, The Doctors were asking, or being asked by, various girls; Paul was taking his long-term girlfriend, Grace Holloway. David was going to take Martha Jones, which made her an object of envy for most of the girls.

Matt, in a rather bumbling and amusing way, tried to ask Amy, blushing profusely in the process. Of course she said yes, but not before thoroughly enjoying the process. As for Chris, nobody was particularly sure, but it was common knowledge that a handful of girls had their eye out.

Among the other sixth-formers, the established couples were soon assembled. Colin and Peri, Tom and Lalla, Jon and Jo, Peter and Clara. It was rumoured that Sylvester had tried to ask Ace McShane, the troublemaker in Mr Newman's class, which could be perceived as good or bad news.

Will Hartnell sighed, listening to gossip all around him, as he emptied his locker on Wednesday. Everyone was planning to go, and he supposed that he had to make some kind of appearance. Will had been made Head Boy, which was something of an honour and something of a burden, because he had more work to do.

He packed his books away and made his way through the school towards his home. Near the front gates, Tom and Patrick caught up with him.

"Hi guys," Will said, greeting them.

"Hey Will," began Patrick, "excited for next week?"

"Not especially, why?"

The pair looked startled and confused.

"Well…" Tom began.

"It's like this," Patrick explained.

"We assumed you would…be…"

"…going…"

"Really?" asked Will, arching an eyebrow, "and who did you imagine I would be asking?"

"Damn it, Will, you know who!" cried Tom, making sure they were, by now, a considerable distance from the other students.

Will stopped, blinking several times.

"Why would you even…" he began, but found himself unable to complete the sentence. "Of course she…what makes you think…" still nothing.

"Face it," sighed Tom, patting him on the back, "you've got a few days, then you've really messed up."

"Speaking of which," added Patrick, "we're renting suits from a shop in town, want to come?"

"I suppose I better had," sighed Will, giving up.

* * *

On Friday, Will arranged to go into town after school with Polly Wright. They got coffee, wandered around the park, talked, laughed and had a nice time. However, there was some kind of nervousness about Will, which was not entirely unjustified. This was a tipping point; it could be the start of something brilliant or a complete disaster.

Eventually they got back to Polly's house.

"This is my stop," she said, smiling.

"Yeah," Will replied, pausing for a moment, before continuing. "I think I've been a bit of an idiot, leaving it until now, but I've been wondering…if you'd like to come to the dance. Next week."

"Yeah," she said, smiling, "I know when it is."

"So," he said, bracing for impact, "do you wanna…?"

She looked down, then up. "I'd love to."

Relief flooded through him.

"Great, okay, I'll…text you…or…something…"

She laughed. "Okay then, see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, I will, yeah…bye."

She went in and he went home, a spring in his step.

* * *

The four boys met a little while before the dance was due to start. They stood outside the hall where the dance was to be held, a high-ceiling and a large stage dominating the space. A bar had been set up, offering the students refreshment, but it was still being stocked.

Jon, as usual looked immaculate. Tom and Will looked smart, but uncomfortable. Patrick still looked a mess.

"So, who managed to drag you along?" asked Patrick.

"I'll have you know that nobody asked me, I asked her," retorted Jon.

"Jo, I suppose," added Tom.

"Who else?" remarked Will.

The four waited in silence for a little longer. Already, some people were filtering in, mainly the four members of the band, who had set up on stage.

Eventually, at about seven, Jo arrived, along with most of the students from other classes. They entered the hall, mingling a little while they waited for the band.

Soon after, Lalla and Zoe arrived, followed by Polly. Tom, Patrick, Zoe and Lalla entered to find their friends, and Will remained outside.

"You look lovely," he said. She wore a pale pink dress, her ash-blonde hair was let down, sleek and straight.

"A tux suits you," she remarked. He shrugged. His suit was navy blue, as was his bow tie, and his shirt was pale blue.

"Shall we?" He offered her his arm and she took it.

* * *

Three of the four band members wore black suits and bow ties, but Chris Eccleston persistently wore a leather jacket. He was, however, sporting a t-shirt with an image of a bow tie on the front, which was something.

The Doctors struck up a new tune as the pair began to dance. Will put one hand on Polly's waist, taking her hand with his other.

"Before this dance is through, I think I love you too, I'm so happy when you dance with me."

The pair began a quick dance, fairly formless, but close in hold.

"If it's funny, try and understand, there is really nothing else I'd rather do, 'cos I'm happy just to dance with you."

They danced for some time. In fact, it seemed like a very long time, but the song, of course, is barely two minutes.

"I just wanna dance with you all night, in this world there's nothing I would rather do, 'cos I'm happy just to dance with you."

The band stopped and started throughout the evening. Polly and Will got a few drinks, spoke to friends, but they danced on regardless.

Eventually the pair found themselves outside. It was dark, but the stars were all out. In the brisk night air, Polly shivered. Will gave her his jacket and they continued to look up.

"Have you had a good night?" Will asked. Polly looked into his eyes.

"Before this dance is through," she murmured, "I think I love you too, I'm so happy when you dance with me."

She leant forwards and kissed him on the lips.


End file.
